


Burnin' For You

by Reis_Asher



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Choking, Cock Warming, Face Slapping, Hotel Sex, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Canon, Self-Destruction, Sexual Dysfunction, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Tenderness, Trans Kerry Eurodyne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Kerry shows up at an expensive hotel suite to find Johnny is high and has trashed the place. He knows Johnny's burning up in his own self-destructive tendencies, and if he doesn't let go soon, he'll catch on fire too.
Relationships: Kerry Eurodyne/Johnny Silverhand
Kudos: 25





	Burnin' For You

**Author's Note:**

> Took a little break from my longer stuff to write this little one-shot. Love these guys!

Kerry heard shouting as he arrived at the penthouse suite, the elevator doors opening to reveal expensive wallpaper, a flustered bellboy, and a small crowd of wait staff trying to get the scoop. The tabloids would pay them eddies for any kind of story on Silverhand's implosion, but Kerry supposed he couldn't blame them. Folks in Night City had to get by any way they could, and Johnny wasn't exactly good at discretion. This whole scene was probably set up on purpose, just so folks would pay attention to him.

Johnny had rented out Night City’s best hotel to have an argument with his output, with which his relationship was as tempestuous and fragile as everything else in Johnny's life. The sound of breaking glass caused Kerry to speed up his pace down the hallway towards the double doors that led into the bedroom. He had no doubt Rogue could handle herself. It was Johnny he feared for. That was why he'd rushed here after overhearing a call on one of the NCPD frequencies about a disturbance involving Silverhand at the hotel. The cops wouldn't do a thing about it, but Kerry could.

Kerry sighed as he pushed past rubberneckers and opened the doors just enough to squeeze through, slipping inside before closing it behind him. The room was completely trashed, right down to the wallpaper that now hung peeling off the walls like this was some decrepit abandoned building in one of NC's slums.

Rogue fixed Johnny with laser eyes. She was fully dressed, which indicated she'd only just arrived, like Kerry had.

“Do you know how much this room fucking _costs_? Jesus, Johnny, what’s happening to you?” Rogue was furious enough that there were tears in her eyes, and Kerry suspected this wasn’t the first, second, or even third time he’d done this. Johnny sat on a chair in the midst of the wreckage, pleased as punch judging from his smirk. He was as naked as the day he was born, his impressive, yet flaccid cock hanging between his thighs. Kerry tried to look anywhere else, but a smile crossed his lips nonetheless. Something about Johnny's antics always seemed to tickle him deep down. He was absurd and dramatic, expressing himself in more ways than just music. This was another performance, and Kerry felt honored to witness it.

Rogue didn't seem to feel the same way. “You know what? I’m done. I don’t need this. Or you. You're destroying yourself and I won't watch.” Rogue strode past Kerry, barely giving him a second glance as she threw the double doors wide open, exposing Johnny’s shame for all the world to see. Kerry quickly shut them again, quietly dismissing the hotel wait staff with thousand-eddie tips. They scattered like cockroaches with the lights turned on. Kerry closed the doors with a quiet click and turned to face Johnny.

“Fuck, Johnny, havin’ a party without me?” Kerry gestured around, bemused. "I mean, shoulda seen it coming. It's not like you'd give corporats cash to sleep under their roof unless you had some kinda plan. You would have taken Konpeki Plaza's suite if they'd let you through the front door." He expected Johnny to smile. To say " _at least you get it, Ker._ " Instead he slumped in his seat. Johnny remotely switched off the lights, leaving them bathed in the neon glow flowing in through the broken windows and torn net curtains.

Johnny buried his face in his hands, little more than a shadow. His arm reflected blue and pink light, making it stand out in the gloom. His dog tags hung down, tinkling against each other in the silence, catching the light. “I’ve fucked it all up, Ker.” His voice was smaller than Kerry had ever heard it, and his first instinct was to comfort Johnny in any way he could.

“Nah, don’t be stupid. Rogue will forgive you. She always does.” Kerry kept his eyes onJohnny, sitting with a cigarette trapped between his fingers. He pulled out his lighter and sparked a flame, smoke coiling upwards as he took a puff of his cigarette. At the center of this ugly performance piece against corporate greed, Johnny was a stunningly handsome work of art.

Not to mention he was a real piece of work at times.

“S’not about Rogue. It’s about this. Life. I’ve fucked up. Should be dead by now. Shoulda gone out in a blaze of glory. I'm gettin' old. Breakin' down.” He reached up and grabbed Kerry’s hand. Kerry met his eyes in the gloom, illuminated only by the burning embers at the end of his cigarette. “I’m fadin’ away.”

“Like you could ever do that.” Kerry smiled, letting go of Johnny's hand to cup his chin. His rough stubble caressed Kerry's fingers. He was so gorgeous, even tormented like this, but he feared that Johnny was right. Someone so incredible as him could only exist in this world for a brief period of time. Johnny was fire, and all fires burned themselves out eventually, running out of oxygen and fuel to consume. Kerry sometimes found himself surprised Johnny had lived this long, even as he tried to catch his flame with bare hands and hold it within his grasp. He could only do it so long before his own flesh and bone seared away.

“Invited Rogue here to fuck, but I can’t even get it up.” Johnny managed a dry laugh, gesturing to his cock. “God knows what my dealer cut that shit with this time. Why’d you think I trashed the room? Gotta give the tabloids somethin’ or they’ll know I got a limp dick.”

Kerry chuckled. For all his beauty, Johnny always made sure to project himself as only concerned with the most trite and unimportant things. Kerry knew better. Johnny's well ran deeper than the ocean. He knew and loved the classics in music and literature. But his ego was connected to his dick, and the idea of not being able to perform sexually probably felt like forgetting how to play guitar.

Kerry sat down on the expensive carpet, resting his head against Johnny’s thigh. Johnny didn't make any effort to move away, so he grew bolder. He planted tiny kisses on Johnny’s flesh, Johnny's hair tickling his lips and nose. He was inches from his cock, and the scent of Johnny's musk was so enticing that he took a deep breath in, wanting to savor the scent of cigarettes and sweat. “Doesn’t matter to me if you can't get hard. I can make you feel good anyway. Is that what you want, Johnny?”

“You know what I need. Always have," Johnny confessed.

“Mmhm.” Kerry lifted Johnny’s soft cock, feeling the weight of it in his hand like it was a holy object he might desecrate if he was reckless. It was impressive, even flaccid, filling Kerry's hand. “You don’t need to get it up, okay? Just relax and feel what you feel. It’s all right.” Kerry wrapped his lips around it, taking Johnny’s stubbornly soft shaft into his mouth.

"What'cha doin'?" Johnny leaned back, seemingly enjoying the view. Kerry looked up to see a thin smile forming on Johnny's lips. "You're that desperate for my cock you just don't care, huh?"

Kerry nodded, his mouth full of Johnny's soft cock. He didn't try to stimulate it. There was no point. Johnny's erectile dysfunction was the result of drug use, not a lack of arousal, and nothing he could do would make that change. But this was intimate beyond measure, resting between Johnny's legs with his dick in his mouth. Gently sucking on it like a thumb, feeling safe and secure here in a way he never felt anywhere else. Despite Johnny's volatile nature, he could be tender when he wanted to be. Kerry savored those moments, kept them inside for the day when Johnny burnt to ashes, the blackened soot of his remains slipping through Kerry's fingers like sand.

“You’re so good to me, Ker.” Johnny’s metal fingers buried themselves in Kerry’s hair, tenderly massaging his scalp. Kerry closed his eyes, savoring the moment. It wasn’t often Johnny was like this—unguarded, his heart like an open book. It always took Kerry’s breath away each and every time he got to see it. “You’re my muse.”

Kerry was glad he had his mouth full. He couldn’t ruin it by accusing Johnny of saying that to everyone he shared his bed with. He probably did. Most of the things he accused Johnny of were true, but that didn't make his words any less pleasing to Kerry's ears. Kerry let out a satisfied grunt as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. He'd stay as long as Johnny wanted him to. All night, all week. Everything else could just wait. The world paused when Johnny was in his presence, reality falling away as they opened a door to a world made only for the two of them.

Johnny finished his smoke. He leaned over and stubbed it out on the remains of an expensive desk. Kerry could feel him falling asleep, his thighs growing softer as the tension ebbed out of him. An undignified snore left his lips, and Kerry glanced up to see Johnny's head had lolled to one side.

At this point, anyone else would have left, but there was no place else Kerry would rather be. He’d been ready to go on a date when Johnny called, but he didn’t care about some faceless stranger. He only thought about Johnny when other men fucked him anyway.

He was at peace. He could hear rain beating against the building, and Johnny’s soft, restful breathing. Sirens wailing out across the city, and the rat-tat-tat of distant gunfire. He didn't want to sleep and miss a moment of this. It could be the last time they ever met. He'd been expecting a phone call for a long time now, telling him Johnny was dead from a drug overdose. Telling him to go to rehab wasn't gonna change a damn thing. Johnny was dying, and all Kerry could do was hold onto his flame until the pain forced him to let go.

At some point, he gave up fighting, and drifted into a quiet, dreamless sleep with Johnny's cock still in his mouth.

* * *

"Good mornin'." Kerry opened his eyes to see daylight streaming in through the broken windows. The torn curtains billowed in the wind, as ready to go as the very hard cock pressed between his lips. "You gonna keep sucklin' on it like a teat, or are you actually goin' to town?"

Kerry let Johnny's cock slip from his mouth. He wiped the drool off his face with his sleeve, and considered his jawache. Johnny's cock looked like it had been in the bathwater too long, but that didn't stop it from being rock hard, its angry red glans begging for release.

"My jaw hurts," complained Kerry.

"Well my head hurts. What the fuck happened last night?"

"What do you think?" Kerry gestured around. You got high, smashed some corpo shit, and pissed Rogue off somethin' rotten."

"What else is new?" Johnny pulled Kerry to his feet and started undressing him from the waist down. Kerry helped him, kicking his jeans and briefs off. Johnny pulled him down onto his lap, slipping inside his cunt in one stroke. Kerry gasped, holding onto the back of the chair tightly enough to break it as Johnny grabbed his hips and bounced Kerry on his cock. Kerry cried out with every thrust.

"God, I love it when you're loud." Johnny's big grin caused Kerry's heart to feel two sizes too big for his chest, and he leaned in, kissing Johnny for all he was worth. Their tongues wrestled, both of them groaning into the kiss before Kerry broke off for air. Johnny grabbed his throat, applying pressure to the sides of his neck until the corners of Kerry's vision went dark. A sharp slap brought him back to reality and he yelped at the sting. The intense look in Johnny's eyes kept him grounded as Johnny fucked him hard and fast, and Kerry knew he'd let the man do anything he wanted. Anything at all.

"Gonna come!" Johnny bellowed. He wrapped his arms around Kerry's back, keeping him fully seated as he unloaded inside. Kerry came right after, milking Johnny's cock for all it was worth. They both sagged, Kerry resting in Johnny's embrace.

"This is the part where you tell me to get out," Kerry remarked. Johnny's cock softened and slipped out of him, and he felt a rush of Johnny's seed dribbling out of him. "You call Rogue, fix things up, go on with your life." It was easier if he said it first. Made him feel a little less dismissed when Johnny agreed he should go.

"Nah," Johnny said. "First we got a room to ditch." A loud knock sounded on the doors, and Kerry remembered they were in the midst of a scene of devastation. One Johnny would be expected to compensate the hotel for.

Johnny seemed to see the unspoken question in Kerry's eyes. "Paid with a fraudulent credit chip. What, you didn't think I'd give corpocunts my hard-earned eddies, do ya? I ain't no sellout."

"We're forty stories up." Kerry climbed off Johnny, slipped into his jeans, and walked over to the shattered window. The wind blew the rain in his face as he looked down at the street below. "That's suicide."

Johnny threw on his leather pants and Samurai shirt, walking over to stand beside him. The knocking on the door became louder and angrier. Hotel security was going to barge their way in any minute now. No doubt some clips of Johnny's escapades had gone viral.

For a moment, looking down at the ground, Kerry wanted to grab Johnny's hand and jump. At least they'd die together. Johnny would go out in a blaze of glory—of sorts. Probably better than whatever gonk plan he had formed in his head regarding his death.

"Think I came here without some kinda plan? Figured I'd have to make a quick escape." Johnny grinned as he climbed out of the window onto a narrow ledge and offered Kerry his hand. Kerry took it, knowing he'd follow Johnny into Hell itself if he asked.

Johnny pointed over to a roof garden on an adjacent building not that far from their position. Just a few steps along the ledge and a hop across a narrow gap, and they'd make it to safety. "Got a fire escape down to street level," he said. "Used to come up here and smoke, look down at the city when I was thinkin' about things." He kept hold of Kerry's hand, and he knew if Johnny slipped, he'd slip, too. He tried not to look down as he heard shouting coming through the open window.

Johnny reached the edge and jumped across the gap first. Kerry took a deep breath and took a leap of faith, thinking that maybe he would be the first to die after all. Wouldn't that be ironic?

Johnny's arms wrapped around him, guiding him to safety. They rushed to the fire escape, bolting down the rusted steps two at a time as Kerry laughed breathlessly, adrenaline surging through his veins. He felt like he'd just played a gig with Johnny, the two of them high on crowd reactions and a few illegal substances. They'd fuck in the dressing room and then go to some afterparty they wouldn't remember when they woke up.

Problem was they were spending the rest of their lives trying to recapture that energy.

The alley at the bottom was deserted, and Kerry pressed Johnny against a graffiti-laden wall and kissed him fiercely. Johnny pulled away too soon, leaving Kerry wanting.

"Your bandanna's crooked," he said. Kerry turned around and let him retie it. Johnny's hands carded through his wet hair, and he wanted to turn around and kiss him all over again. He waited patiently as Johnny retied his bandanna and turned back around.

Something had changed in Johnny's eyes. There was a flicker of sadness in his dark orbs and Kerry knew the moment had passed. Possibly forever. "I gotta go," Johnny said. "I'll call you." He took off running, leaving Kerry behind in the rain-slicked alleyway.

* * *

A week later, Johnny did call. Kerry hated the relief he felt at hearing Johnny's voice. Something was different, though. Johnny sounded driven. Passionate. _Hopeful_ , almost. Johnny didn't do hope, and that meant there was a kicker. Kerry could feel it in his bones, and he realized this was the call he'd been dreading, though Johnny wasn't yet dead.

"Hope you're ready for the gig of a lifetime," Johnny said. "Gotta get the band together one last time, choom. A farewell concert."

"Farewell? Where you goin'?" Rehab? God, let it be rehab.

"Get this. Arasaka fuckin' Tower. The whole world's gonna know the name Johnny Silverhand. I got my inspiration back, thanks to you. Remembered how it felt to fuck the system."

So, not rehab, then. Kerry bit his lip, his heart sinking as he fought back nausea. He didn't know what Johnny wanted with Arasaka Tower, but it would almost certainly end with his death. He was taking his own life, albeit in a show of vengeance and fury. Suicide by corpo. His star turning supernova at last, as Kerry had always known it would.

"Guess I shouldn't ask for the deets," Kerry said, though he badly wanted to. Maybe he could talk Johnny out of it, but he wasn't going to say anything on the phone. Only way to find out was to play at the gig and hope he could change Johnny's mind.

"Can I count on you or not?" Johnny snapped.

"Yeah, Johnny. Of course you can." Kerry closed his eyes as Johnny hung up. He leaned against the wall and slid down it. He couldn't hold onto Johnny any longer. He was already on fire from his proximity to Johnny.

If he didn't let go now he would burn up completely.


End file.
